by Anne Ashley
His smile was distinctly rueful. ‘Well, I cannot deny, Miss Grey, coming face to face with you again was something of a surprise.’
Her sense of humour came to the fore and she gurgled appreciatively. ‘Shock,’ she corrected, before her smile disappeared and she became serious again. ‘He didn’t prepare you, did he? He didn’t tell you that Georgie Green had returned to town in the guise of a Miss Georgiana Grey? And I cannot help asking myself why not. Was he hoping that you would quench his thirst for revenge by exposing me to the world at large…?’ This time her laughter was distinctly mirthless. ‘I had thought better of him.’
‘It is sometimes difficult, even for me, to know what goes on in that head of his, Miss Grey. All I shall say in his defence is that last year, when you left without warning, he was like…’ he shrugged ‘…like a man possessed. He was almost beside himself with worry. He spent weeks and weeks attempting to find you. He even engaged the services of a private investigator. And all to no avail. You covered your tracks extremely well.’
The fact that she had been so successful brought scant consolation in view of what she had just learned. He must have truly cared to have done all he had in an attempt to locate her whereabouts.
She turned to stare out into the darkened garden again, determined not to give way to the sudden swell of emotion in a bout of tears. ‘I did leave him a letter,’ she revealed softly. ‘Surely he must have received it? I simply couldn’t have stayed any longer—he must have realised that himself.’ She shook her head, silently cursing herself for every kind of a fool. ‘I should never have accompanied him to Fincham Park. I should have left immediately after I had discovered what I came to London to find out.’
Sensing she was being regarded with keen interest, Georgiana turned to see Charles staring at her fixedly. She hadn’t intended to divulge anything at all, but now that she had she had no intention of attempting to rectify the blunder.
‘Yes, sir, there was a purpose in my outrageous charade. Just as there is a purpose in my being in London now. But to hell with it all!’ she cursed in fine Master Green style. ‘That doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy myself a little from time to time. I do believe the supper dance is about to commence. I should very much like you to partner me, sir, and, if you are not otherwise engaged, to escort me in to supper afterwards.’
‘My dear Miss Grey, nothing would give me greater plea sure.’
Lord Fincham, on the other hand, was anything but gratified when he returned to the ballroom to discover his closest friend dancing with the female who had rarely left his thoughts in many a long month. That she performed the steps with inborn grace, coupled with the fact that his friend was clearly delighted to be dancing with possibly the loveliest female present, was scarcely destined to alleviate his ever-increasing taciturn frame of mind. He swore long and hard under his breath, much to the dismay of a middle-aged matron standing nearby, before swinging round on his heels and leaving the ball without informing anyone of his intentions. After successfully hailing a passing hackney carriage, he journeyed straight to his club, where he remained for several hours, before finally returning to Berkeley Square.
A lamp, turned down low, was all that welcomed him into the hall. He had never encouraged his servants to wait up for him, not even his valet. Yet, perversely, even this adherence to his expressed wishes only succeeded in irritating him further, and so he took himself off to his library in order to find solace in the contents of a brandy decanter, only to discover, to his surprise, his good friend awaiting him.
‘Good gad! I would have expected you to have sought the comfort of your bed hours ago! You still intend leaving in the morning?’
Smiling enigmatically, Charles assured him this was so, before glancing up at the mantel-clock. ‘Though somewhat later than originally planned, I rather fancy.’ He waited until the Viscount had collected both decanter and glass and had joined him at the hearth. ‘No, I waited up for you in order to satisfy my curiosity. You are one of the last people I would have ever described as either vengeful or petty, so why the deuce didn’t you warn me?’
One black brow was raised in a distinctly haughty arch. ‘About what, pray?’
‘Don’t try that tone with me, old chap,’ Charles countered, distinctly unimpressed as always whenever the Viscount feigned ignorance. ‘What are you about? Is it your intention to punish her?’
This time the Viscount didn’t pretend to misunderstand, and for a moment stared, narrow-eyed, down into his glass. ‘Do you not think she deserves to be punished for past behaviour?’
‘What particular aspects of past behaviour?’ Charles once again countered. ‘For saving your life, maybe? Or for turning you into a human being again, proving to you that you could still experience those more tender feelings?’
His lordship was on his feet in an instant. ‘That’s enough, Charles!’ he warned. ‘I’ll admit, I was concerned about her, when she left Fincham Park. More fool me!’
‘No, I don’t think you were being foolish at all. But I think you’re being so now. And cruel, too, I shall take leave to add. The poor girl’s enough to contend with, what with the rumours about her, without having to deal with your…attitude towards her.’
‘What rumours?’ his lordship demanded, his bewilderment unmistakable.
‘Do you mean you haven’t heard? Evidently you didn’t spend too much time conversing with Lord Rupert this evening. Apparently there’s a rumour abroad that she’s the late Earl’s by-blow. I spent some time after you’d departed conversing with Lady Pickering, and there’s no denying Grenville was dashed fond of the chit, absolutely adored her, by all accounts. Apparently he was once engaged to be married to her mother. And once the spiteful tabbies got wind of that… Well, you know what they are.’
After clearly recalling the chance encounter in the park, his lordship released his breath in a string of colourful expletives for a second time that evening. ‘I said something to her earlier in the week that I regretted almost directly afterwards,’ he explained in response to his friend’s startled look. ‘It was a needlessly cruel and petty thing to have said, and was uttered in order to cast an aspersion on Ronan’s evident affection for her.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘After what you’ve just told me I suspect she must have supposed I’d heard the rumour and was referring to her.’
‘That I couldn’t say.’ Unlike his lordship, Charles was smiling faintly as he rose to his feet. ‘But what I can tell you is what you always suspected was right—there was some purpose in her coming to London last year. She admitted as much, though I don’t think she intended to tell me. I’ll tell you something else—she’s here in town for the same purpose now. She’s not here to find a husband. I watched her throughout the latter part of the evening. Although she did eventually dance with several young blades, she betrayed not the least interest in any gentleman. No, she’s in town for some private purpose of her own.’
The Viscount’s shoulders rose in a shrug that might easily have been taken for complete indifference by someone who didn’t know him well. He even sounded dispassionate as he said, ‘Well, what of it? We all have our private concerns.’
‘True,’ Charles agreed, moving over to the door. ‘But anyone who—er—perhaps felt a degree of affection for Miss Georgiana Grey just might bestir himself sufficiently to ensure that she doesn’t involve herself in further potentially ruinous escapades. She’s a girl of indomitable spirit to stand up to your peccadilloes, and therefore more than capable of placing herself in danger again…
‘Goodnight, Ben,’ Charles added, closing the library door quietly behind him before collecting a candle from the table by the wall. He had reached the staircase when he heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, a clear indication that something had been thrown against a wall with considerable violence.
‘Now we shall see some sport,’ he murmured, smiling triumphantly as he made his way up to his allotted bedchamber.
Chapter Eight
&nbs
p; ‘Oh, why don’t you borrow some of my jewels?’ Lady Sophia urged, entering the bedchamber in time to watch a simple string of pearls being fastened round a slender throat. ‘Grandmama won’t permit me to wear most of them, she says I’m far too young. But I’m sure she wouldn’t object to you borrowing any of them. You know how very fond of you she is.’ Pretty features suddenly adopted a decidedly mutinous look. ‘Besides, they’re mine. They were Mama’s, and I’m quite happy for you to wear any of them. There’s a ruby set that would go very well with that new gown of yours.’
‘That’s kind of you, Sophie,’ Georgiana re sponded, smiling fondly at the girl whom for years she had looked upon with great affection. ‘But I’m happy wearing my mama’s pearls. Besides, I don’t wish to give the impression I’m wealthy, because I’m not. I shall always be grateful to your father for funding this Season for me, but I’m far too much of a realist to suppose I shall attract a rich husband. I’ve far too little to offer in return.’
Sophia raised her eyes in order to meet those reflected in the dressing-table mirror. ‘You’re lucky in one way, though, Georgie. If a gentleman proposes marriage to you, at least you’d know for sure he was marrying you for love.’
‘True,’ Georgiana agreed, ‘though it isn’t much compensation if he doesn’t happen to live up to the man of my dreams, and I’m unable to return his affection.’
‘Oh, I’d forget all about your Sir Galahad, if I were you,’ Sophia urged in all seriousness. ‘Though, you’re never likely to find anywhere near a decent replacement if you don’t go to a few more parties. You haven’t bothered to attend half the social events I’ve been to. What’s more, you even turned down the opportunity to drive round the park today,’ she reminded her, just as a young maid slipped into the room in order to return some freshly laundered garments to the wardrobe.
‘No, well, it just so happened I wanted a word with Digby,’ Georgiana confessed, while making a great play of donning a pair of long evening gloves. ‘I needed to consult with him over—er—certain matters.’
‘Good job you did, miss,’ the young maid put in, clearly having unashamedly listened to the conversation, ‘because he’s in no fit state to run any errands for you now.’
Had the housekeeper been present she wouldn’t have hesitated to reprimand the young servant, but Georgiana was far too concerned over what might have befallen her personal servant to concern herself about codes of conduct.
‘What’s happened to Digby?’
‘Seemingly, he tripped down the back stairs, miss, and fell badly. He were about to go out, but he won’t be going nowhere now, not on that ankle. Swollen something awful, so it is!’
‘Oh, Lord!’ Georgiana rose in a trice. ‘Apologise to the Dowager for my tardiness, Sophie, but it’s imperative I see Digby before we go out.’
Without offering any further explanation, Georgiana rushed from the chamber and down to the servants’ domain, where she discovered Digby receiving the gentle ministrations of none other than the housekeeper herself in her private rooms. One glance at the swollen ankle resting on a footstool was sufficient to assure Georgiana that the young maid had not exaggerated.
‘Oh, Digby!’ she cried, dropping to her knees beside his chair. ‘Has a doctor been summoned?’
‘No need for no doctor,’ he assured her, though clearly in pain. ‘’Tis naught but a sprain. I’ll be as right as rain in half an hour or so.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Georgiana countered. ‘You’ll not walk on that ankle with any degree of comfort for quite some time. Of all the things to happen today, of all days!’
‘’Tis worse than you think, miss,’ he said in an undertone, while gesturing in the housekeeper’s direction.
The inference was clear, and so Georgiana kindly asked the high-ranking member of the household staff to allow her a private word with her own servant. ‘Now, what is it?’ she demanded to know, once she had been granted the privacy she requested.
‘’Tis tonight, miss. Jem got word to me earlier, and ’e reckons them there emeralds will be passed on to the Frenchie this very night.’
‘But, how can he be so sure?’
‘Because one of ’is sons ’as become friendly-like with a wench that works in this certain tavern. ’E found out the Frenchie and Tate ’ave met there in a private room at the back. Seems Tate ’as booked this ’ere room for tonight. I was supposed to go there now, and this tavern wench were going to ’ide me in the back room, so as I could see what went on. Jem and ’is lads can’t do it. They be keeping an eye on those three gents. They’ll ’ave left the ’ouse by now, so I can’t send word to let ’em know what’s ’appened. I’ve got to do it myself, Miss Georgie. There’s no one else.’
‘Oh, yes, there is,’ she countered, after a moment’s consideration. ‘I’ll go in your stead. Now, Digby, don’t argue,’ she added, when he proceeded to do just that. ‘There’s no other choice.’
‘But you can’t go walking into a lowly tavern like that, miss,’ he insisted, staring aghast at her elegant attire. ‘Even if you were to go dressed as a serving wench, you’d still look out o’ place. You just don’t look the part.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she assured him, only to dash his hopes a moment later by declaring, ‘Master Green shall go!’
Startled, Digby gaped at her. ‘You’ve never gone and brought those dratted clothes with you?’
‘Indeed, I have,’ she assured him with simple pride. ‘I thought when I was packing my trunk back in Gloucestershire they just might come in useful. And see, I was right! It’s no good—my mind is made up,’ she continued, when he attempted to make her see reason. ‘Instead of arguing, find some paper and write down the directions of that tavern, while I seek out the Dowager and attempt to convince her that I have succumbed to the most wicked headache and therefore won’t be accompanying her out this evening.’
She rose to her feet and stared down wistfully at the gown she had chosen with particular care. ‘It’s rather a pity in a way,’ she confessed. ‘It was one of the parties I had a real desire to attend, for certain—er—sentimental reasons.’ She forced her mind back to the present. ‘But it cannot be helped. Meet me at the side entrance in about an hour. Her ladyship should have left by then.’
It was almost two hours later when Georgiana descended from the hired carriage outside a squalid tavern situated in a decidedly unsavoury part of the city. She had never journeyed this far east before. On that one and only occasion, the year before, when she had ventured out of the more fashionable area, Lord Fincham had been with her and she had felt completely protected. She felt anything but safe now, but didn’t allow this to deter her from entering the lowly inn.
If possible the interior was even more inhospitable. The stench of unwashed bodies, mingling with other obnoxious odours, almost made her retch as she somehow managed to pick her way over to the counter, neatly avoiding the more noisome piles of filth strewn over the floor.
A young woman with tousled hair, ill confined beneath a dirty mobcap, came instantly across to serve her. ‘What can I be getting you, young sir?’
Could this be the person who was to aid her? Georgiana wondered. She certainly fitted Digby’s description of the serving wench, right enough—buxom and unkempt. There was only one way to find out!
‘Are you Nell?’
There was a decidedly wary look in the dark eyes that stared above the counter at her. ‘Who be wanting to know?’
‘Jem Fisher said you’d be willing to hide me in a certain room.’
‘Did ’e now?’ She was clearly unimpressed. ‘Well, you ain’t the cove he brought in ’ere t’other day. That I do know. You be only ’alf ’is age, if that.’
‘Ah, yes, that was Digby. He’s—he’s my uncle,’ Georgiana added inspirationally in an attempt to win the girl’s confidence, though it was clear she remained decidedly suspicious. And who could blame her? She might lose her position if the innkeeper discovered she was prepared to co
nceal people about the tavern. ‘He had an accident earlier this evening and hurt his ankle,’ she went on to explain. ‘So he sent me in his stead.’
‘Well, I do think it strange they should ’ave sent a boy along. Still…’ she shrugged ‘…you’ll ’ide more easy in that there cupboard than that uncle o’ yourn. But first you’d best buy a drop of ale, else you’ll look even more out of place in ’ere.’
‘I assume the Frenchman and Tate haven’t arrived yet?’ Georgiana asked, after being furnished with a tankard of a decidedly unpalatable cloudy brew, which she had no intention of even sampling.
The question seemed to reassure the serving girl. ‘Seems you do know what you’re about, for all you looks a spindle-shanks.’ Her grin revealed an array of badly decaying teeth. ‘No, they ain’t ’ere yet, but you’d best not tarry. Wait over there by that there door, and I’ll let you through into the passageway when the landlord ain’t looking.’
As good as her word Nell performed the task, before showing Georgiana into a room situated a little further along an ill-lit passage. ‘I were told to sweep out in ’ere earlier today, so you can be sure they be coming, but I can’t say as ’ow long you’ll ’ave to wait. I’ve moved some of the shelves so as you can ’ide in ’ere’, and, so saying, she unlocked the door of a large cupboard, where various items had been stacked haphazardly on the higher shelves. The bottom half of the cupboard was empty, allowing plenty of room to sit down, if permitting little further movement.
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right in there?’ Nell looked Georgiana up and down. ‘You don’t look none too sturdy to me. You ain’t going to pass out nor nothing, I ’ope.’
‘I’ll take leave to inform you that I have never fainted in my life!’ Georgiana assured her, slightly nettled by the suggestion.
‘In that case you’d best get yerself inside,’ Nell urged. ‘I’ll lock you in, and come back later when Tate and the Frenchie be gone.’
